( This four-wheeled petrol demon is the reason for my perennial lateness, and forces me to sit next to old people who smell like cabbage and click their tongues alot. EVIL!!)
If there is such a thing as karma then truly it's coming back at me with a vengeance. Honestly. For 2 years in Aberdeen, I never really had to get a bus anywhere. I lived 15 minutes walk from town, and across the road from uni, so there wasn't any point. Back in Glasgow, I lived in the Merchant City for 2 years- again, working on Queen Street and going to the Metropolitan college meant I could literally leave 15 minutes before I had to be anywhere and STILL have time for coffee and a fag before I went in. Even Bridgeton was only another 10 minutes through Glasgow Green- a lovely wee stroll in the morning to wake me up before class, as opposed to the bus, which went along London Road. An obvious choice, I think you'll agree..
ANYWAY. Since October, I've been staying back at home with my folks for the first time in... ooh ...about 5 years? At first I was relieved, the not-paying-rent thing meant I didn't have to bust my arse doing 5 shifts a week as well as go to uni every day... and it's always nice coming in knowing there's food in the fridge. What I did give up, however, was the convenience. I don't live near ANYWHERE. Even the nearest bus stop with a regular service is a 15-minute walk from my house. My timing couldn't be better either: they're extending the motorway which runs right through the middle of Cumbernauld (as if living in Cumbernauld wasn't bad enough, they now seem determined to make it even more difficult to get out of the damned place). Also, there's no bus after half 12 during the week which means I have to rely of lifts and taxis en route home from work. Basically, in not having to pay rent, I've given up all independence regarding getting to and from anywhere, and it's costing me a bloody fortune to boot.
After the travel chaos of the intensely heavy snow over Christmas, they seem to have now intensified the workload on the roads to make up for lost time. (REALLY, was it such a shocker? Coldness, wetness and snow in winter??? Heavens alive! SOMEONE TELL THE DAILY MAIL) Last week, I was late for Richard's class on Monday cuz the bus didn't turn up. Not at all. On the day of our collaborative shoot with TPA, the bus sat at the next stop up the road for 10 minutes. It just sat there, doing nothing. Same on Friday; except that after trawling through the Stepps bypass at a snail's pace, and running half an hour behind schedule, the driver then told us "we're gonna be half an hour on Cathedral Street". This was at....9:55? When we were starting at 10? And I'd got the bus at...ten to 9?? Soooo, I got off at the Royal, in the pouring rain just as I heard a bus inspector telling my driver to "go roon the back ae Toonheid"...which takes all of 5 minutes. I couldn't even get back on the bus; the earlier revelation that we'd be half an hour going down Cathedral Street had prompted an involuntary "fuck off" from me (it just came out, honest...). After this, we finished at 2:45...and I wasn't starting work til 6. Too late to go home and back, too long to stoat about the shops with no money.
The worst journey of all though, came this morning. I'd made every effort possible to make sure I was up on time. I even dug out my old alarm clock that'd actually wake the six-feet-under. I was up and ready, with my wee packed lunch ready, at 7:45. Luckily, I was up in time to catch the bus that's only a 5-minute walk. I had managed the impossible, too, of getting The Boy up and out the door before afternoon-time. Quite a feat indeed!!! But yeah. I asked a wee woman at the bus stop if the X2 had been by yet; she looked at me as if I'd beaten her elderly mother using her beloved cat as a weapon. After waiting 10 minutes, we decided we were going to have to walk to the far away bus stop. ANNOYING, but at least we were on time. The bus wasn't. It wasn't too late; in fact it looked like we might even kind of be on time. I didn't realise, though, that you can't get a 2-journey ticket before 9am. You have to get an all-day ticket, which is £4 and, of course, I had to pay for the Boy's as well. Still, I gritted my teeth, relieved the bloody thing was relatively on time for a change. Until we got to just outside Westfield, which is about 5/10 minutes from where we'd got on. From here, to the cut-off at Moodiesburn, is maybe all of 3 and a half minutes. This morning it took FORTY EFFING FIVE. And I was going to be late for Kim's class, AGAIN, after the same troubles the last time she took us on a Monday morning.
Of course, this morning bus is The Bus of The Living Dead; what with all the elderly folk who like to inexplicably go into town at that ungodly hour. And, of course, elderly folk like to complain. So everyone who got on the bus after this decided to hold the bus up even further by moaning about how late it was. Yeah, cuz that's gonna get you into town faster. The only saving grace of this whole debacle was that I got to do some last minute refinements on my soap character for Kim, and I got an extra wee cheeky nap. This didn't really help though, when I blustered into class with my smudgy make-up from having dozed off on the Boy's shoulder- really not professional!!
Thankfully, I'd no such troubles on the way home. OF COURSE, it turned up on time. I spent the whole journey home pondering whether living in a cardboard box under Central Station bridge would be worth it for the easy commute. My housecoat has a hood on it; I reckon I'll be fine. For some extra pennies, I reckon I could go 17th Century and try my hand at being a highwayman. My first target?..... the X3.